


Grid Kids

by FormulaFerrari



Series: The Next Generation Of Formula One [1]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Gen, driver's kids, grid children rather than grid girls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 05:09:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3678864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FormulaFerrari/pseuds/FormulaFerrari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With F1 wanting to abolish grid girls someone has to take over their job...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grid Kids

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bethonie (Formula_Tea)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Formula_Tea/gifts).



> So, for now, the Rosberg kid isn't born yet and I don't know her name. When I do I'll change it.  
> For now:  
> **edit** now baby Grosjean has been born I have altered this so it reads true - little Simon Grosjean :') (please let me know if I've missed any alterations :P)  
> **edit.2** Now baby Rosberg's name has been revealed I have made the appropriate alterations so she is now Alaïa and not Mara.
> 
> Also, I've made them all a few years older because otherwise this would have been a little difficult :L So I guess in my head the youngest are around four with Simon being maybe two (I know I've messed with ages but that's just how it worked :P)
> 
> This work is for bethonie so I hope you like it ^_^ Sorry if it's not very good; I'm not super nor had much experience writing children :')
> 
> #ForzaJules  
> \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

More crying. Who was it now? Why was this turning into the worse plan in the history of plans? Bethonie stood up after straightening Victoria’s dress, turning to see Emilie thwack Robin on the head with her German flag.

“No, Emilie!” Bethonie cried, rushing forwards and stopping the small girl from striking the crying boy again. Robin sat on the floor sniffling. “Don’t hit Robin with the flag!”

“But he says his flag is better!” Emilie whined, trying to hit Robin again. She wasn’t hitting him too hard but maybe giving children metal poles for the flags wasn’t the cleverest idea. Bethonie took the flag from Emilie so she couldn’t hit the little boy again. “Mine has more colours!”

“Is boring!” Robin protested, rubbing his head. Bethonie pulled him into her arms and rested him on her hip so she could check his head. “Is just strips. Mine has a cross!”

“Mine has more colours!” Emilie stropped. “How is my flag more boring!”

“Alright, calm down.” Bethonie tried, bouncing Robin a little to try and get him to stop crying. “No one’s flag is boring, they’re all very interesting and pretty.”

“Apart from Emilie’s…” Robin muttered, curling into Bethonie’s shoulder. He liked Bethonie; she gave good cuddles like Mummy.

“My flag is better because it’s Papa’s!” Emilie pouted, folding her arms. Bethonie could see this probably wasn’t going to be resolved quickly.

“How ever much people annoy us, Emilie, we don’t hit them with flags.” Bethonie chastened, ignoring the tug on the back of her shirt for a moment. Emilie continued to pout.

“But Robin was mean.”

“And we don’t be mean to people, Robin.” Bethonie said, looking at the little boy in her arms as the tugging got more persistent.

“Papa says to tell people the truth. Emmie’s flag _is_ boring.” Robin explained.

“Is not!” Emilie glared. Bethonie could see no resolution coming out of this.

“Bethy!” A small voice behind he moaned. Releasing the child’s hand from the back of her shirt she turned around to see Felipinho beaming at her, standing proudly with his flag in his holster. “Look!”

“That’s not how you tie a tie, Pea.” Bethonie smiled, placing Robin down as she crouched down to fix Felipinho’s tie. The small Brazilian child stepped back from her, his smile dropping a little.

“Want to wear it like this.” Bethonie looked at the bow Felipinho had fashioned at his neck. She really couldn’t let that happen.

“How about we do it properly like Papa would wear it?” Bethonie tried, pulling Felipinho closer to her. His face crinkled in thought. “Sacha is wearing his tie very nicely.”

“Will do a better job than Sacha.” Felipinho said, glancing down at his bow. He liked his bow. And didn’t Papa sometimes wear a bow instead of a tie? “Beat Sacha in our karts the other day.”

“Very good.” Bethonie smiled, pulling the bow apart and smoothening down the material. She wasn’t going to point out that Felipinho was currently in karting Championships and Sacha had only just got big enough to fit in his kart which was probably why the small Brazilian had won. Not when he was letting her fix his tie with no arguments.

“See? Felipi’s flag is _super_ interesting.” Bethonie heard Robin say behind her. She rolled her eyes, hoping Emilie wouldn’t hit him with the flag again.

“Yours would be better pink.” Emilie retorted. Bethonie could hear the huff in her voice.

“Not everything is better pink.”

“Papa’s badminton racket is.” There was a small giggle from the pair of them.

“That is very true.” Robin smirked. Emilie and him had planned to paint his Papa’s too but Mummy had found them before they could make a start. It meant they weren’t allowed to play with the paints unsupervised anymore which was sad because Emilie had agreed Mummy’s pink trainers would have been better green.

“There.” Bethonie smiled once the tie was done. Felipinho looked down at it as if it had magically changed. “Now you look perfect.”

“Better than Sacha?” Felipinho asked, his eyes wide and excited. Bethonie gave him a small nod, making the little boy blush and beam brighter than Daniel Ricciardo.

But the trouble wasn’t over yet.

“Ouch!” Bethonie had seen Alaïa reach over and pull Victoria’s hair. She left Felipinho admiring his tie as she moved across the room to them. “That hurt!”

“We don’t pull hair, Alaïa.” Bethonie said, crouching down between the two of them. Victoria glared at her.

“She calls my dress stupid!” Alaïa said, her bottom lip wobbling. “My dress not stupid.” Bethonie raised an eyebrow at the young Venezuelan; their dresses were identical.

“You have the same dress, Victoria.” Bethonie said lightly. The child’s glare didn’t change.

“Alaïa said Daddy crashes all the time! Is not true!”

“Is so!”

“Is not!”

“Does he finish last race?” Alaïa said, folding her arms. Victoria just glared at her.

And then shoved her shoulder.

“Hey!” Bethonie called, holding Victoria back. “We don’t shove.”

“She’s being _mean_.” Victoria spat. Bethonie pulled Alaïa back to her feet.

“Say sorry.” Bethonie instructed as Alaïa brushed her long blonde hair out of her face. Victoria folded her arms.

“But she was being _mean_.”

“That doesn’t allow you to push her. Now say sorry.” Victoria set her glare on the Rosberg child, it growing more intense as she curled into Bethonie’s side.

“Sorry.” She hissed.

“Now you say sorry for being mean.” Bethonie said, looking down at the blonde child.

“But I was telling the truth!”

“That doesn’t allow you to be mean, so say sorry.” Alaïa exasperated dramatically, letting go of Bethonie.

“Sorry, Victoria.” She sighed. Bethonie nodded, getting up. “Sorry I tell you the truth.”

“Ok! How about we get lined up, yeah?” Bethonie called, pulling Alaïa out of the way before Victoria shoved her again. She set the small girl down letting her toddle towards the front, fighting a little with the size of the flag almost three times her height. “If you need any help just ask.” The other children, who were a bit older - more around Felipinho’s age, walking for the drivers without children made their way quietly towards the line that was forming by the door. Bethonie turned when there was, again, tugging on the back of her shirt.

“Bethy?”

“Yes, Pea.” She smiled, crouching to straighten his collar.

“Why am I not at the front?”

“Because you Papa didn’t qualify at the front.” She explained. Felipinho considered that for a moment.

“But am the oldest. Should be at the front.”

“But you’re walking your Papa’s flag.” Again, Felipinho took some time to consider this.

“Want to be at the front.”

“But then you can’t stand with your Papa before he races.” Felipinho frowned, torn between wanting to be at the front and wanting to be with his Papa. “How can he know he’s got all of your support if you’re standing with someone else?” It took Felipinho a moment to think about that but a bright smile filtered on his face.

“Like when Papa stand with me before my races?”

“Exactly.” Bethonie smiled, letting him rush off to his place in the line.

“No, Simon! Cannot help!” Bethonie took a deep breath as she stood up. Couldn’t they just stand for five minutes with no drama? At least Alaïa and Victoria were separated by lots of people.

“Saccy help!” Simon smiled, one thumb in his mouth as he tried to hold onto the end of the French flag. Sacha shook him off.

“No.” Bethonie moved towards them.

“What’s going on here then?” She asked. Sacha whined, frowning at his brother.

“Now have got us into trouble! Will tell Papa and he will be mad!” Sacha accused of his little brother who was still determinedly holding onto the corner of the flag.

“You’re not in trouble.” Bethonie smiled, crouching beside them. Simon laughed, waving his corner of the flag and making the whole thing ripple. Sacha, again, tried to shake him off. “What’s going on?”

“Is not helping.”

“Papa win!” Simon giggled, rippling the flag faster. Bethonie stopped his arm.

“He just wants to be involved.” Bethonie tried to explain. Sacha just huffed.

“Is not helping.”

“You have to let him do _something_.” Bethonie clarified as Sacha forced Simon to let go. Simon’s smile dropped off his face. He reached for the material but Sacha moved it away from him.

“Is too small to hold the flag-”

“-WANT TO HOLD PAPA’S FLAG!” Simon wailed, startling everyone around him. Bethonie scooped him into her arms, trying to calm him down.

“You can-”

“-SACHA WON’T NOT LET ME!” He screamed, tears streaming down his face. Bethonie desperately dried his eyes. They were going to be called any second, she couldn’t have a screaming child on her hands, not now.

“Sacha will, won’t you Sacha?” Bethonie said as Simon began to hiccup. Sacha rolled his eyes.

“Fine. But is too small to hold the flag.” He wasn’t giving that up. He wanted to carry Papa’s flag.

“Then let him hold the corner.” Bethonie tried to compromise. Sacha folded his arms.

“Then it won’t look as good as the others.”

“Let him hold the base then.” Bethonie put him down, straightening his shirt. “Just let him help.”

“Beth?” Bethonie turned to see the track organizer walk into the room, his eyes glancing the line of children. “Ready?” She looked down the line too, glad to see Sacha helping Simon to his feet and taking his hand. The small French boy seemed more than happy about that, smiling brightly at his brother.

“As ready as we’ll ever be.” She nodded, moving towards the front to lead them all out.

Bethonie was sure the grid girls never caused this much drama.


End file.
